


Radio Silence

by 4ce_in_sp4ce



Series: Contagion AU (Inception) [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Contagion (2011) AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pining Arthur (Inception), Pre-Relationship, Worried Arthur (Inception)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ce_in_sp4ce/pseuds/4ce_in_sp4ce
Summary: Arthur knew their job was dangerous, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The danger was supposed to be from diseases, from viruses and bacteria and parasites, and Arthur could plan for those. They could be figured out and once they were figured out they could be predicted. People, though- people were unpredictable. They could be violent and cruel, often without rhyme or reason, and the thought of Eames being held somewhere, being threatened or hurt orkilled, had kept him up since he’d found out Eames was missing in the first place.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: Contagion AU (Inception) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012092
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Radio Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the ongoing and ever expanding Contagion AU that I absolutely did not mean to become A Thing, but here we are

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in. Same as I told you before: you aren’t authorized.”

“Really?” Arthur kept his voice even and measured, but made no attempt to keep the anger out of it; he’d long learned that anger was far more intimidating and effective when it was quiet and controlled. “And what, if I may ask, makes me _unauthorized?_ ”

“Well, you’re a civilian, sir, and…”

“I am not just a _civilian_. I am a WHO representative trying to respond to a public health crisis that _your superiors_ called me in to address and I need access to my colleague if I’m going to effectively do that. My colleague, who _you_ ,” he let his tone get even more pointed, “currently have in a back room and are not allowing to see anyone despite the fact that he has done nothing wrong and is unambiguously the victim in this situation.” He leaned forward just slightly. Not enough to be threatening, but enough to make a point. “I’m sure your superiors will be _thrilled_ to hear the explanation for this.”

The officer hesitated a moment, looking around, before buzzing the door open. “O-of course, sir. My apologies.”

Arthur walked through without another word. He was sure Cobb would chew him out for that if it got back to him- he admittedly likely _didn’t_ have the authorization to be back here, and that might ruffle a few feathers that were better left unruffled- but he didn’t particularly care at the moment. He’d deal with that if it came up. Right now he had other things to worry about.

This should’ve been an easy case; cholera outbreaks were messy but it was an easily treatable disease as long as they could get medications disseminated quickly and early. That was its own set of problems, of course, but this should’ve been relatively simple compared to the other sorts of cases they worked. But then Eames had gone radio silent, which was unusual for him. He was the media and administrative liaison, he was _never_ silent. But there’d been nothing. No word, no explanation, no replies, nothing. Then, about 6 hours after he’d gone quiet, the local police had reached out to WHO regarding a ransom demand they’d received.

Kidnappings of WHO field personnel weren't exactly common but they weren't unheard of either; sometimes it was for treatments or medications, sometimes it was for money. This time it was for both. Arthur knew a number of teams who’d had a team member kidnapped or almost kidnapped at some point but this was the first time it’d happened on his team, and their job could certainly be stressful but this had been a whole new kind of anxiety. One he’d be perfectly happy to never deal with again. The past three days had been a mess of trying to address the cholera outbreak spreading through Nairobi's slums like wildfire while also waiting on any word regarding Eames’ whereabouts or safety. Arthur’d rushed to the station as soon as Cobb had called him letting him know that the police had found Eames, dropping what he’d been working on immediately. It could wait until later; Eames couldn’t. After three days of his mind running through the worst case scenarios on repeat, Arthur needed to know he was alright.

The main room of the police station was busy, officers hurrying to and fro across the floor, escorting criminals or carrying files or just looking determined and stressed. It took Arthur a moment to parse through the chaos to find Eames sitting on a worn looking couch that’d been shoved to the side of the room, out of the way. He hurried over, anxiety growing in his chest; he hadn’t thought he could be any more worried than he’d already been, but the sight of Eames’ black eye and what looked like blood on his shirt proved him wrong. “Eames!”

Eames looked up with a tired smile. “Hey, darling. Fancy seeing you here.”

Arthur sat down next to him, reaching out and tilting Eames’ face toward him to try and get a better look. “Jesus, are you alright? Are you injured?”

“I’m fine, love, just a bit tired is all.” He gave Arthur an amused look. “I’m surprised they let you back here.”

“Pretty sure I’m not supposed to be,” Arthur muttered, still focused on trying to figure out whether Eames was injured. His black eye and some minor cuts and bruises seemed to be the extent of things, but the stain on his shirt was _definitely_ blood now that Arthur could see it better and that did nothing to make him feel any less worried. “Managed to talk my way back though.”

Eames chuckled. “You mean you intimidated the poor guy at the front desk until he let you back even though he wasn’t supposed to.”

“Maybe.” Arthur shrugged slightly. “I got fed up with waiting for them to get their shit together. You’re the fucking victim here, not some sort of criminal. You shouldn’t even _be_ at the police station. You should be at the hospital getting checked out.”

“Paramedics checked me out on scene, I’m fine. I’ll look a bit banged up for a few days, but that’s the worst of it.” Eames raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were maybe worried about me.”

Arthur frowned. “Of course I was worried about you. Been worried since you dropped off the face of the earth three days ago.” He was mostly convinced that Eames wasn’t seriously injured by now, but he still didn’t look great. Even outside of the black eye and minor cuts, he was covered in dirt and there was dried blood smeared across his cheek. The sight of it sent another stab of anxiety through his chest, mixed with anger. This should never have happened. “I should’ve known something was up when you stopped answering my texts. You usually never shut up.”

Eames laughed slightly. “You’re so friendly, Arthur, really. So warm and flattering.”

“It’s part of my charm.” Arthur’s frown deepened. He understood that the police couldn’t let Eames leave until they’d taken his statement, but they should’ve at least given him the chance to clean up if they were going to make him sit around for hours. He looked around briefly until he spotted a pack of water bottles on the floor near one of the counters. Eames watched him with a confused look as he got up and grabbed one, grabbing a box of tissues off one of the desks as he walked back. The officer at the desk either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and Arthur didn’t really care either way; after the shit show the past few days had been, they could spare some tissues and water. He sat back down on the couch, opening the bottle. “Come here.”

Eames looked at him, confused. “What are you…” He sighed as Arthur wet a few tissues, understanding dawning on his face, and he gave him a somewhat incredulous look. “Seriously, Arthur?”

“Yes, you’re an absolute mess. Now come here.”

Eames sighed again in resignation and moved closer. “I can clean myself up, you know. And it’d be easier to just wait until I’m back at the hotel.”

“Given how things have been going, it’ll be hours before they take your statement and let you leave. You shouldn’t have to sit around covered in dirt and blood until then.” He wiped at the dirt on Eames’ forehead gently. “And you don’t have a mirror, so it’s less of a hassle if I just do it.”

“Alright, alright, no need to get pushy about it,” Eames chuckled again. “Just pointing it out is all.”

He sat patiently as Arthur wiped away the grime, careful not to be too rough. Arthur’d hoped he’d look better cleaner, but he somehow managed to look worse. Without the dirt there to cover things up his black eye stood out more and Arthur could see the dark circles under his other eye; he looked like he’d barely slept over the past few days. Arthur certainly wouldn’t be surprised if that was actually the case. His lip was badly cut too, badly enough that Arthur was surprised he hadn’t needed stitches. Another wave of concern slammed into Arthur’s chest, the intensity of it catching him off guard. He knew their job was dangerous, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The danger was supposed to be from diseases, from viruses and bacteria and parasites, and Arthur could plan for those. They could be figured out and once they were figured out they could be predicted. People, though- people were unpredictable. They could be violent and cruel, often without rhyme or reason, and the thought of Eames being held somewhere, being threatened or hurt or _killed_ , had kept him up since he’d found out Eames was missing in the first place. Even now it was enough to make him pause, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I really was worried about you, Eames. _Really_ worried.”

“I’m alright, darling, no need to worry about me. I’m fine, I-I…” Eames’ voice cracked just a little, expression shifting ever so slightly, and Arthur saw it. The exhaustion, the fear, the relief, all of it just below the surface, hidden under his smile. Eames dealt with cameras and the media and had the best poker face of anyone Arthur had ever met, but sometimes it slipped. Just every once in a while. Just now. “I just need some sleep, that’s all.”

Arthur ran his thumb gently across Eames’ cheek, tracing the bottom of the bruise around his eye. “Doesn't make me any less worried.” Eames almost seemed to lean into the touch, and Arthur felt some of the tightness in his chest relax finally. It was alright. _Eames_ was alright. He was okay. Arthur took another breath. "I'm glad you're safe." They stayed like that a moment longer before it occurred to Arthur how close they were. He pulled his hand back, clearing his throat awkwardly. His face suddenly felt warm and he looked down, hoping to hide how red he was sure his face was getting. "You, um, you at least look a bit better now that you're cleaned up." It was a lie, but he had to say _something_ and it was the only thing that came to mind.

"Right. Yeah, thanks for that." Eames sat back against the couch, sounding just as uncomfortable as Arthur felt. After a moment of awkward silence, he motioned to the still mostly full bottle of water on the small table in front of them. "You know, you probably could've just filled up a cup from the sink. No need to waste an entire bottle."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Eames, we're here for a cholera outbreak, I am _not_ using tap water. For anything. And I'm _definitely_ not using tap water to clean open cuts."

Eames laughed and the awkwardness began to fade. "Okay, fair enough. Still feel bad though."

Arthur leaned forward and picked the bottle up, handing it to Eames. "Then drink the rest of it. You're probably dehydrated anyways."

"Isn't that how cholera kills you? Dehydration?"

"In severe cases, yes." He gave Eames an amused look. "All the more reason to make sure _you're not_ dehydrated. We don't need any more incidents on this case. One is more than enough."

"Yes, Dr. Cohen." Eames took a drink, chuckling.

Arthur leaned back against the cushions, raising his eyebrows. "Dr. Cohen, really? You only ever call me that when you think I'm being annoying."

"It's a miracle I refer to you by anything else then, darling."

"Fuck off." Arthur tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I know, love." Eames’ voice was softer and less teasing than Arthur expected. “I appreciate it.”

Eames shifted, his shoulder coming to rest against Arthur’s slightly. Arthur considered moving away- things had been awkward enough before, he didn’t need to make it worse- but decided against it after a moment. Instead he settled back into the couch; they’d probably be here a while before the police were willing to let Eames leave, so he might as well get comfortable. The contact, slight as it was, was admittedly nice, and as he stared out at the bustle of the room around them Arthur felt himself relax slightly more, the anxiety and worry of the past few days slowly dissipating at the feeling of Eames sitting next to him. And when he felt a gentle weight on his shoulder a few minutes later and looked over to find Eames’ head resting against it, his eyes closed and breathing slow and regular, he just smiled. He shifted ever so slightly so that Eames was resting against him at a less awkward looking angle and a soft warmth spread in his chest, overtaking the concern that was still resting there. Cobb would almost definitely yell at him for the stunt he pulled to get back here, but it was worth it. He hesitated briefly before resting his cheek on top of Eames’ head, ignoring the heat in his face in favour of the warmth in his chest. Yeah, it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> figured I should probably just collect all my various tumblr prompts into an actual series so that they're all in the same place and are easier to find/tell the order of asdjgksdh


End file.
